Chapter 219

The waiters finished serving and discreetly exited the private dining room.

This restaurant operated on exclusivity. The owner, Sylvia Kingsley, didn't subscribe to the notion that customers were always right. She reserved the right to refuse service to anyone.

Her clientele consisted either of regulars or those whose personalities met her exacting standards. Naturally, they also needed the means to afford the exorbitant prices. Anyone displaying rudeness would never taste the culinary masterpieces created here.

Sylvia had built a reputation for her fiery temperament. Over the years, she'd offended countless nouveau riche types - those with wealth but lacking refinement.

She could afford such behavior. Her husband and son held considerable influence in high society.

Evelyn took a few bites before turning to feed Isabella, who clung to her side. The little girl's affection melted Evelyn's heart. Had Isabella refused the gourmet meal, Evelyn would've abandoned Dominic and Alexander without hesitation to cook for her at home.

"You should try this too, Miss Eve! It's sweet!" Isabella mumbled through a mouthful of food, her large eyes blinking up at Evelyn.

Evelyn smiled, using her fingers to wipe sauce from the corner of Isabella's mouth.

The restaurant owner reentered unexpectedly.

Dominic stiffened. It was highly inappropriate for outsiders to interrupt a family meal.

Sylvia cleared her throat delicately. She knew her intrusion broke protocol - not her usual style, despite her senior status.

But Evelyn's striking resemblance to a younger Genevieve Prescott had overwhelmed her curiosity.

Sylvia pulled up a chair unceremoniously, studying Evelyn. "How's the food, dear? Does it meet your standards?"

"It's exquisite. Now I understand your reputation," Evelyn replied.

Earlier, Dominic had explained the restaurant's exclusive nature.

Sylvia nodded, satisfied. After a pause, she voiced her burning question: "Evelyn, may I ask how old you are?"

"I'll be twenty-four this year," Evelyn answered honestly, though puzzled by the inquiry.

"Twenty-four..." Sylvia murmured, lost in thought.

Hadn't Genevieve borne her first child twenty-four years ago? The timeline blurred in Sylvia's memory.

That child hadn't survived.

It marked the darkest period for Genevieve and Jonathan. As Genevieve's childhood friend and confidante, Sylvia never inquired about the loss.

Afterward, Genevieve never conceived again.

Jonathan came from political aristocracy. His family couldn't tolerate the lack of an heir.

Sylvia never learned how they resolved it, though rumors suggested Jonathan claimed infertility to protect Genevieve.

They'd been friends since elementary school. Sylvia remembered Genevieve's pregnancy vividly - they'd gone to the doctor together for confirmation.

When Jonathan learned of his fiancée's condition, he'd accelerated their wedding plans.

After marrying, they'd gone abroad.

Then the child was gone. Sylvia never dared ask if it was stillbirth or miscarriage.

Genevieve never became pregnant again.

Studying Evelyn's face, Sylvia wondered: Had the child been stolen at birth?

Could Evelyn be Genevieve's lost daughter?

In the kitchen, Sylvia had dismissed such coincidence. But recent news haunted her - a man discovering his adoption through culinary preferences.

If that could happen, perhaps...

"Mrs. Kingsley?" Dominic interrupted her reverie.

Sylvia blinked. "Forgive me. You know how critical your mother can be, Dominic. Even if Evelyn is the twins' birth mother, Beatrice Lockwood's standards are... exacting."

Everyone present knew Beatrice's temperament well.

Yet Beatrice had never truly been an obstacle between Dominic and Evelyn.

If Evelyn wished it, nothing could stop Dominic from claiming her.

Sylvia studied Evelyn again. "Don't misunderstand - I'm not suggesting you're unworthy. But Beatrice isn't someone to cross lightly. I worry your gentle nature might clash with hers. May I ask... what do your parents do?"

This was her true question.

The preamble made it seem less intrusive.

Sylvia desperately hoped Evelyn would say, "I'm an orphan. I don't know my parents."

That would leave room for possibility.

Dominic watched Evelyn, ready to intervene if she seemed uncomfortable. But Evelyn answered calmly, "My father does manual labor. As for my mother... I've never met her."